


Bad Guy

by GalekhXigisi



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Depression, Disassociation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Klaus Hargreeves Ends The World, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, M/M, Medication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 09:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Klaus wants to fix things, but he's far too gone to understand.





	Bad Guy

_ “Dad, let me out! Dad!” He screams as the ghosts inch closer, clawing at his skin and screaming in his ears. A shrill shriek fills the room. Pain coils around his body, acid coating the nails and hands.  The screaming seems to sync up with the dead bodies.  _

 

_ He just screams louder and louder.  _

 

“Klaus, honey, are you alright,” Grace asks softly, a hand gently placed on his own. The knife was wrapped tightly between his fingers, crescent moon imprints leaking blood from his hand. He didn’t even know when his nails had begun to dig into his palms. “You haven’t eaten anything today.” She leaves out the reminder that he always eats half the kitchen before he even gets near being full. “You didn’t eat yesterday, either. Would you like something else to eat?”

 

_ “I’m Dave.”  _

 

_ “Klaus.” _

 

Klaus stands up without a word, the knife dropping to the table instantly. His blank exterior doesn’t even hint at the storm raging inside of him. Everything seemed to be so painfully dull inside his brain. His hands flexed at his sides as he stomped up the staircase, ignoring Allison’s voiced concerns at the blood dribbling down his hands. Not even Vanya’s yelp seemed to tear him out of his mindless numbing. He slips into his room and locks the door. 

 

He was sober as could be, which meant any and all ghosts were screaming at him. Their voices were painfully loud and he was honestly surprised his eardrums hadn’t burst yet. However, he doesn’t attempt to cover his ears.  _ [It’s never once helped him.] _ Klaus’ mind doesn’t dare wander far from the ghost currently staring him down. Or, at least, he  _ thinks _ they’re staring him down. It’s hard to tell when they don’t have eyes. Empty sockets were burnt where their eyes had been as if someone had stuck a giant iron rod in their eyes sockets. Their head was cocked to the side, brows furrowed and face full of pity. Their mocha skin was covered in bruises, mostly ones blotching their wrists. Klaus feels his chest well with pity for them each and every time he saw them and their torn clothing. Duct tape covered their mouth, too. 

 

They had haunted him for as long as he could remember, even before his siblings second time around. They sought out Klaus’ pity from any and all angles, often following him around and mentally begging for help, for a savior to come. Telepathically communicating with the dead was far from Klaus’ favorite activity, though. The first time around, he couldn’t do it, couldn’t telepathically speak to them, but now he  _ could _ and he was sober. He could also make any ghost physical with heightened emotions, but that was far from something he actually wanted to think about. 

 

For two years, Klaus had done nothing but pop an occasional pill or two that got laid down and smoked countless joints. That had been his entire first few years of drugs, never doing anything  _ too  _ serious. He had incorporated alcohol in fairly common, though. Then again, who  _ doesn’t _ steal from their old man’s alcohol stash?  _ [“No ten-year-old,” he had told himself on multiple occasions when he had first begun his self-destructive tendencies.] _ After Five’s disappearance and the constant prying that he  _ had _ to somehow summon him, other drugs had come into effect, ones that he had no business using or even knowing about at the age of thirteen. At fourteen, after Ben's passing, he ruined himself. With his brother’s ghost haunting him, he found it as a constant reminder that he’d fucked up somehow.  _ [Ben makes sure to remind him daily that it wasn’t his fault but he still blames himself constantly, Ben’s reassurance there or not.] _

 

His hands rake up his scabbed arms, nails scratching at the surface. Red streaks replace what was once a pale surface. It burns and his skin buzzes uncomfortably. Even his nails ache from how deep he’s digging them into his flesh. Ghosts always gave him a disgusting, itchy feeling that had him shaking. Unfortunately, though, this ghost moves forward. The instant their hands touch Klaus’ skin, though, the noise of sizzling fills the room. Klaus damn near screeches in pain. Instead, he manages a soft whimper, ripping himself away. They don’t seem to care, though. 

 

_ Klaus screams. The hands are too much. There’s too many noises and too many factors that don’t align. His pain burns memories into his skull, etched there until time ends. No sobbing seems to help, though. He was stuck in there with too many hands and too many voices, all there to attack the teenager that promised himself he’d stay sober, promised  _ Dave _ that he would stay sober.  _

 

_ He cries until he vomits and passes out. His dreams don’t seem to be much more different the true experience going on out in the mausoleum, in the place where his body currently laid and ghosts seemed to be taking advantage off. Even in Klaus’ dreams, he sobs. He sobs so hard that he wakes up before passing out once again.  _

 

-

 

Klaus’ senses were dulled. His reaction times were slow and he spoke only when Reginald demanded it. There were no longer snarky quips to the other Hargreeves’ snaps, nor talk of absurd things that went late into the night until Grace came to get whoever seemed to be missing from their room. _ [The even numbers {Ben, Diego, and Klaus} were almost always missing from their beds until she raked them in or agreed to let them stay. More often than not, she agreed with a smile. Her compassion for the three sons seemed to amaze even them.]  _ He didn’t even snark back at Pogo when the chimp demanded he go to training. He was silent and stood without any sort of fuss in him. He just grabs the others hand and walks with him. It was  _ weird. _

 

His arms are always cut up. He bandages them himself. Handprints over his body are covered with clothing. Number Four’s body was nothing more than a ghost’s playground, always solidified. He had become so painfully submissive for the ghosts. Whatever they said he has to do, he went with it, even if the ending results were painful and made him want to sob. He does sob on more occasions than not. However, no one seems to respond to much of it. His body is burnt with permanent remnants of the ghosts that haunted him, even the one without eyes, the one he had  _ always _ trusted. 

 

_ “I can’t bring him back,” God mumbles to Klaus, seemingly annoyed that she even was near him. “You can kill yourself as many times as you’d like, I’m not bringing him back. It doesn’t work like that.”  _

 

_ “You can bring me back but not him?”  _

 

_ God rolls her eyes. “You’re different. I’m not bringing you back.  _ You’re _ bringing yourself back, Klaus. I’ve got nothing to do with that. You’re immortal.”  _

 

Klaus’ hands roam over himself as he stares at the mirror. Bruised knees, bloodied nose, blistered burns. No one seems to care about his sudden disappearance from all interactions. He’s no longer a part of the family meetings. _ [He had even heard Allison call one this morning and he wasn’t invited in the least. That made his chest tighten and body ache even more.] _ Blood flows down, covering his lips and chin. He wipes it away, leaning over the sink and letting it dribble down and into the sink. This time around, he had standards and blood seemed a little low on those standards. He didn’t like the taste of blood. It was gross to him, made him want to vomit. He had changed so very much this time. 

 

He does vomit. It makes him feel disgusting and he  _ has _ to shower or he’ll cry. That means looking at his body. He can’t do that. Klaus has to flip off the lights. Even in the dead of the night,  _ [when no one is awake or telling him what to do] _ things are still too much for him. He still sobs, silent and disgusting. He doesn’t feel good. Far from  _ good. _ He feels like he’s the most appalling thing to exist. He doesn’t resist the urge to cry. 

 

Klaus is despondent as ever. He’s even more ahorred with himself than he typically was when he was sober  _ [Which had been incredibly so, but don’t tell his family, they may get upset with him and attempt to help but only manage to make it worse.]. _ He screams into the water and everything is soundless to the world outside of that old bathroom. He’s silent to the rest of the world, the only noises he makes being pleading with the dead and God or whimpers that leave him. However, it seems as if all his pleas are falling upon deaf ears. He yowls with the tears that dribble down his face slipping into the water. Even then, in the bathtub, he still sees ghosts. Its ones that have drowned, meaning there are so fucking many. He only sobs harder. 

 

_ “You can’t run from your destiny, Klaus. If Vanya doesn’t cause the end of all time, you do. You can summon armies without issue. Get a hold of yourself and do something good.”  _

 

_ “Oh, so you  _ want _ me to end the world,” Klaus chirps to God. his annoyance with Her is clear.  _

 

_ “Of course. It has to happen at some point. You just decide when that point is.”  _

 

He keeps his head under until he chokes on water and has to come up, hacking out coughs until blood joins with it. He continues to sob. God was right and Klaus knows it deep within himself. He was going to cause the end of all time and there was nothing he could do about it other than say  _ no. _ He bewails at the damage displayed on his body. Nothing had improved, just only gotten worse. 

 

-

 

Klaus hadn’t eaten in, what, four days? He had no idea. He had drunk some water here and there, but he wasn’t hungry. He was far from hungry. Everything he ate was vomited back up, anyways, no matter how much Grace forced down his throat and gave him medication to keep it down. It all came back up. Even  _ if _ he was currently locked in a cell with four people standing in front of him. 

 

Allison looks guilty as can be, a deer mistaking candles for headlights. Except these candles are  _ actually _ headlights and they’re coming at him  _ quick, _ barrelling forward. The only warning is Allison’s strut forward.  _ “I heard a rumor,” _ she begins. She looks so guilty for it but doesn’t dare pause. Klaus can’t stand to listen to it. Not in the least. 

 

_ “No,” _ he yells. It’s deafening. Not only does  _ he _ say it, but at least twenty-seven ghosts that were in the room. All were physically there within the split second that he yells it. His voice carries through the entire building, the walls of their makeshift panic room crashing the ground behind him. All the ghosts disappear, no longer physically there. Allison, Pogo, and Reginald all hold their ears. There was unmistakably the yelp of Vanya upstairs and Five’s own squeal. For Klaus, though, it brings panic. That panic has ghosts flickering in and out wildly, green and blue mixing painfully. It’s rough on his eyes, to say the least. 

 

Allison’s hands slowly pull away from her ears, followed by Reginald, then Pogo. Their Mother seems to just be looking around, confused as can be. Her eyes dart around the room. She seems to be searching for an answer as to why the glass over her eyes is suddenly shattered, or why the walls had fallen, glass in the door shattering. 

 

Klaus covers his ears. The voices are suddenly screaming in his ears. They beg for answers just as much as he is. One touches his arm. The next screech he lets out is haunting as of itself. The noise of sizzling takes over the room. He slaps the ghost away, a hand protectively moving over his arm. “Go away,” he begs the ghost, tears falling. Hands cup his ears, his body folding in itself like a lawn chair. 

 

“We should have hooked him up to monitors,” Reginald sighs. 

 

“They would have shattered as well, Master Reginald.” Pogo slips his hand into Grace’s. “Come along, Grace, Allison. We must fix her eyes before something happens.” 

 

“We’re just going to-” 

 

_ “Allison,” _ Reginald speaks with gritted teeth. She scuttles behind Pogo and Mom within an instant. 

 

_ “You can save the world or end it,” God whispers with pursed lips. “Make sure to tell your sister that I don’t like her much, either.”  _

 

-

 

No one gets responses from Klaus anymore. The most only responses he offers are from when his mother tells him to eat. He does eat, but not much. Everyone was so painfully full of worry. His training becomes more intense, as well as the punishment for not doing it. He gets punished more than he even attempts to listen to dear old Reginald. His irises, just like Vanya’s, get overtaken with a cloudy, emotionless white. 

 

It’s so starkly different from their first time around. He doesn’t ask for them to somehow link contact together, even if it’s just their pinkies swiping together.  _ [He needs contact, always had. It was one of the few ways he could confirm that they were actually real, that they weren’t dying, dead, or nothing more than hallucinations.] _ He’s touch starved. Not touch starved in the way that most were, just wanting simple touch. He was touch starved in the way that he hadn’t felt anything gentle in  _ years. _ He really hadn’t. He had flinched at most of the touches that came with being back to the Academy. For those few days, he had done nothing but flinch time after time. Now was no better. He needs gentle contact, contact like the kind Dave had provided, so full of kindness and love. 

 

Everything makes him flinch now, or at least a subdued version of it. His fingers twitch. They tighten their grip on each other and least crescent moons on his palms that sometimes bleed and sometimes don’t. His dark eyes were no longer the aesthetic he had made for himself as a kid when he had accidentally made a mess of Allison’s makeup. They were now natural, made by his own powers. The white eyes were something he had no idea how to change, though. 

 

His knife juts into the table, effectively making everyone jump. “Number Four,” Reginald chides, you are disturbing-” 

 

“Shut up,” Klaus speaks up, voice low and painful on his throat. It aches. 

 

Everyone turns towards him with shock, even Grace and Pogo looking at tad astonished at the fact that he actually had the balls to say that. “I beg your pardon,” Reginald speaks, offended himself. 

 

“I’m not a fucking number. My  _ name _ is Klaus and I am a human being.” 

 

“You are still-” 

 

“Let me fucking  _ finish,” _ he yells, standing up harshly. His chair grates the floor, leaving harsh marks that have the others feeling anxious. Grace moves to pause the record playing. The android herself looks anxious. “I know about the end of time, of the world. If  _ Vanya _ doesn’t cause it,  _ I  _ do.” 

 

The oldest adult glares. “Nonsense, Number Four-” 

 

“My name is fucking Klaus,” he yells once again. Ghosts flicker to life, echoing it for him. They flicker away instant. “What are you gonna do, old man? Lock me in the mausoleum with those ghosts that just  _ love _ to kill me again and again? Trap me in the same panic room you put Vanya in? Make me take her drugs that are supposed to stop everything? Are you going to  _ kill _ me?” He smirks a wild, crazed smirk. “Do you know how many times I’ve died and come back? God says that She hates not only me but Vanya, too. You have no idea how much-” 

 

“Number Four!” 

 

Klaus flinches. Ghosts seem to solidify behind him without hesitation, their hands just barely hovering over him. THey flicker out within a second, leaving everyone a little pale. 

 

“We are more than just your experiments to traumatize. Five spent forty-five years in a wasteland because of you. Allison didn’t even realize using her powers was abuse. Vanya didn’t know her medicine was destroying her. Luther died because of one of your stupid missions. Diego gets years of his life shaved off and can’t interact for shit. Ben literally  _ dies _ because of you. Luther-” 

 

“Four, you must refrain from-” 

 

The entire table flips. There are so many ghosts underneath it. Klaus can’t even count them over what in the Hell is going on. The table crashes to the ground and Klaus moves the Hell out of the room, stomping out of the home. He runs purely out of anger. Things were changing. Klaus was rewriting history and no one could stop him. Not now. Not ever. He couldn’t die anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

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